All Things Equal
by BlackFox12
Summary: Follows Danger and Honesty. Slade has a nightmare and feels guilty. Contains spanking and slash. Don't like? Don't read


**All Things Equal**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the television series Arrow and I'm not making any money from this fic

**Summary:** Follows Danger and Honesty. Slade has a nightmare and feels guilty

**Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers for seasons one and two of Arrow; AU; violence; aftermath of a severe beating/fight; heavy make-out sessions between two men (no actual sex in this one); references to torture

**Pairing:** Slade Wilson/Oliver Queen - slash

**Author's Note:** Bit of a role reversal here. It's been in my head for a while now, so I hope readers think it works

* * *

Maybe it was inevitable.

Slade knew he was broken. And this wasn't the first nightmare he'd woken up from, covered in a cold sweat and tormented by things in his past... done by him and to him. He was fairly sure any kind of psychiatrist would diagnose him with PTSD... and probably a whole myriad of other disorders, if he could ever realistically see one.

This wasn't even the first time Slade had dreamed of killing Oliver... but it _was_ the first time he had since coming out of the prison and the two of them becoming lovers.

Slade reached out for Oliver, before remembering the other man had left for a few days. Something to do with Queen Consolidated and a meeting with the shareholders.

Separation anxiety. That was a thing, too. Slade and Oliver were, more than likely, unhealthily attached to each other. Their individual issues would give any psychiatrist a field day. Together...

Slade shoved away the image that haunted his dreams; of his hands, wrapped around Oliver's throat. Except he couldn't keep it away. And Slade _wasn't_ a superstitious man... but the panic that had awoken him from the dream was still there and still going strong.

His cell phone was in his hand without Slade being conscious of picking it up. He took a deep breath and forced himself to think... to remember that dreams, no matter how vivid, didn't mean anything. But Slade knew he wouldn't be able to sleep unless he checked in with Oliver. And he knew the kid well enough to know that Oliver wouldn't be sleeping very much while he was away.

Slade pressed a button and then put the phone to his ear, listening as it rang.

"Slade." Oliver answered after only two rings. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Now that he heard Oliver's voice, Slade found himself relaxing. The kid was safe. "You know... even on the island, we found time to sleep."

There was silence for a second and Slade realised that Oliver's mind was working. They didn't talk about the island much... and Slade was positive that Oliver was listening to the tone of his voice as much as the words themselves. That was confirmed by Oliver's next comment. "You know, the shareholders expect me to flake out. I can claim cold feet... fly back to Starling City."

"I called to check in on you, Oliver. I don't need you to fly back here." Not just because of a bad dream.

"Do you _want_ me to fly back?"

"I want you to get some proper sleep." Slade knew that it was possible to survive on a small amount of sleep; at the same time, Oliver was where he was supposed to be safe... provided, of course, that there wasn't an extra mission Slade didn't know about.

"Isn't telling me to go to sleep after you called in the middle of the night a little counter-productive?"

"I knew you would still be awake."

There was silence, but it was a comforting one. Slade felt himself able to calm down... though he was reluctant to tell Oliver about the dream he'd had. Just because the other man trusted him, it didn't mean that he needed to hear that Slade was still having nightmares about killing him.

Slade curled his free hand into a fist. He didn't know why Oliver had chosen to stay with him... chosen to have what amounted to a relationship with him... but in many ways, Slade wondered if Oliver was still naive... at least when it came to the person he formed a relationship with.

"Did you dream about the island?"

Slade's fist relaxed at Oliver's question. "Not exactly."

"You dreamed about something happening to me."

Slade made a non-committal noise. "That shouldn't have been hard to figure out." Since he was calling Oliver in the middle of the night just to check in on him.

"I'm safe, Slade." Oliver's voice was quiet. "I know you still don't trust yourself, but I know you. I trust you."

And those words made Slade feel better; more so than he thought he had the right to. "I just needed to make sure nothing had happened to you before I tried going back to sleep. The dream didn't mean anything. I know that. But I knew you would still be awake."

"I think it's kind of sweet you were that worried about me." A trace of amusement entered Oliver's voice.

Slade paused. It had been a _long_ time since he'd heard that kind of teasing from Oliver. Maybe it was a good sign... that what was broken inside the other man was finally healing. Or maybe Oliver was just trying to put on the mask he wore around everyone else... but Slade knew more about him than most everyone did. Some of the scars were his responsibility and there were days that guilt almost crippled him. "Make sure you call me if anything does happen."

"You'll be the first one I call." The amusement was gone... replaced by a note of sincerity.

"Good." Slade stared at the far wall. "Get some sleep, Oliver. I'll try and do the same."

"I'll fly back as soon as this meeting is over. Anything you'd like me to bring back for you?"

The first response that Slade's mind threw at him sounded far too corny. He contented himself with saying, "Surprise me."

"Anything you want," Oliver said quietly. "Good night, Slade."

"Good night, Oliver." Slade listened to the silence as the call was disconnected. Suddenly, he didn't want sleep. He wanted to feel fists ploughing into him. He wanted... he _needed_... to hurt; and be hurt in return.

Slade got out of bed and dressed quickly.

* * *

It was almost twenty-four hours later when Slade collapsed back into his bed. His body ached and throbbed with bruises that he was going to be feeling for several days and he hadn't even looked at himself in the mirror... but he was fairly certain he looked awful.

His kidneys ached so much, he thought there might be blood in his urine for the next couple of days.

Slade was a fighter... a survivor... but against several opponents, he could still be hurt; and badly. Picking a fight in a bar hadn't been his best idea, but it had given him the pain he thought he wanted. Only problem was, it didn't do anything for how he felt inside. But now the outside of his body mirrored the pain he felt inside.

Staring up at the ceiling with his one good eye, Slade held an ice pack to his split lip, numbing it. His stomach throbbed painfully from the amount of hits he'd taken there... but he didn't feel in danger of being sick.

Slade hadn't slept all day and his weariness caught up to him. He closed his eyes, the pain in his body not preventing him from falling into unconsciousness.

* * *

Slade's eye was still closed as he became aware of someone else in the room with him. His hand shot up, catching a wrist fast just as it would have connected with his face.

"Slade... it's me," Oliver's voice murmured.

Slade opened his eye, looking up into Oliver's face. He carefully pushed himself up, wincing as his wounds pulled, and focused on the other man. "You're back earlier than I thought you would be."

"I cut the meeting short. I know you tried to tell me everything was fine... but you didn't sound as fine as you tried to lead me to believe." Oliver reached out, one hand gently brushing against the cut on Slade's lip. "What happened? I just came back... you were collapsed on the bed. Looked like someone came in and beat you up... left you for dead."

"I was far from death."

"Did someone break in?"

"No." Slade still had hold of Oliver's wrist, but he didn't let go of the other man. "I picked a fight in a bar."

"Why would you do that?"

Slade wasn't sure what he could say to that. He didn't want to tell Oliver that he felt like he couldn't trust himself... or that he shouldn't be sleeping with Oliver, or close to happy with him, when he'd done so many horrible things to him. If he said the wrong thing, would he drive the other man away? "It doesn't matter."

Something flashed across Oliver's face... gone as quickly as it had appeared. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Slade's in a hard kiss that took Slade's breath away. It hurt the cut there... but Slade responded to the kiss, cupping the back of Oliver's head and allowing himself to just feel.

Oliver wrapped his arms around Slade, resting his head against his shoulder, after he pulled back from the kiss. "You picked a fight to get yourself beaten up, didn't you?"

Slade took his time answering, one arm wrapped around Oliver while the fingers of his other hand lightly stroked the back of his neck, under his shirt and over the bare skin of his back. The nightmare had left him out of sorts, but now that he held Oliver in his arms, he knew that he didn't need to worry about Oliver's safety with him. Even the _thought_ of doing something to hurt the other man was one that seemed ludicrous now. He expelled a sigh. "I did."

Oliver tightened his arms around Slade. The embrace was enough to hurt the injuries... but Slade couldn't bring himself to pull away. The thought flashed through his head that this wasn't a healthy way to view a relationship... but Slade was damaged in so many ways already, one more didn't make much of a difference.

The two of them stayed like that for a little while... not speaking; just feeling. Slade's arms were as tight around Oliver in return. There was a big part of him that still expected Oliver to push him away... the rest of him just felt grateful that the other man hadn't yet realised what a huge screw-up Slade actually was.

Oliver shifted closer to Slade, enough that he could almost crawl into Slade's lap. Slade might have smiled at the thought, if Oliver hadn't lifted his head to look at him. The serious expression on his face was one that Slade knew he wore often enough... especially when he had to deal with the unpleasant task of spanking the other man. (And it was unpleasant. There was no part of Slade that enjoyed hurting Oliver).

"You know... if I'd done that, you would be spanking me right about now."

Slade met Oliver's gaze without flinching. The other man was right. But it was more than that. Getting beaten up by a group of strangers in a bar hadn't done anything for the guilt that filled him, because it was Oliver he'd hurt through his actions. He didn't bother speaking. There was nothing that needed to be said. Instead, he simply pulled away from Oliver's embrace. "Sit back," he directed.

Oliver looked at Slade, a trace of amusement under the seriousness. "I think I've been on the other end enough times to know what to do." He did settle back on the bed, dragging over a couple of pillows to rest on the bed next to him.

Slade moved over to Oliver's side. "You don't need to worry about keeping my upper body supported. Nothing's broken."

"I don't want to hurt your injuries more, Slade." Oliver's tone was soft, but no less sincere. "If I didn't know how well you know your own body... and that you _would_ go to the hospital if you needed to... I'd be insisting you get checked out."

Slade nodded, acknowledging Oliver's trust in him. His hands went to his hips and he shoved his pants down along with his boxers. Taking a step forward, he leaned over his lover's lap, carefully shifting so that his upper body was supported by the pillows.

"If you needed to fight someone, Slade, there were a whole lot of safe ways you could have done that without getting yourself this badly beaten up. I already said I'd fly back if you wanted me to. Or needed me to."

"I shouldn't have needed you to." Slade frowned, those words escaping him without conscious effort.

"Yeah, well, we're in a relationship, Slade. You need me, I'm there for you. And I know you're there for me when I need you. We might still have a few kinks to work out, but those two things are constant. Maybe not after we left the island, but they were while we were there... and they are now."

"I think it's more than 'a few kinks'," Slade muttered.

"You can't risk yourself." Oliver cleared his throat. "I mean that. No matter how damaged you are, or think you are. Or how much you don't trust yourself. You're here. You're not trying to kill me. Anything else, we can work around."

Slade winced, more from the emotional pain than how much his injuries pained him. He didn't have a chance to respond, though, before he felt Oliver's hand collide hard with his backside. He didn't give much of a reaction and the next swat landed harder, on the other side of Slade's rear.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, to be so vulnerable like this. As Oliver settled into a rhythm of swats, going down to Slade's thighs, Slade had to clench his jaw shut against the slight groans and hisses of pain that threatened to escape him. Even injured, he could easily break Oliver's hold on him... put up a fight, at least.

Then again, the same could be said for Oliver when their positions were reversed.

Oliver started over from the top and Slade shifted slightly as already-sore skin was covered. He couldn't quite stop the slight groans that escaped him... hissing when Oliver swatted a spot that had already received attention; or stayed on one particular spot for a little while.

It wasn't the pain of the spanking that caused Slade's breath to start coming in slightly sharper pants, even though it did hurt. He was seeing the images from his nightmare, over and over again... and remembering everything he'd done and planned to do to the other man.

And it didn't matter that Slade hadn't been under his own control. It didn't matter that the very thought of hurting Oliver now made him feel almost physically sick. Because he _had_ hurt Oliver. He would have taken his penance by staying in prison, but Oliver had brought him out. He didn't hate him, even though he had every right to do so.

And Slade didn't deserve this. Not after everything he'd done.

Trapped inside his own head, the pain of the spanking felt almost distant to Slade, lost as he was inside his own emotional turmoil. He came back to himself when he heard the unmistakeable sound of a belt being pulled free.

"Don't pick a fight next time, Slade. Or if you do, pick it with me. We can take a few swings at each other if you need that. Or I can do this again. Cause I know damn well you'd do the same for me."

Slade wasn't given a chance to answer before he heard the sharp crack of the belt and felt it land across the centre of his butt. "Fuck!" He couldn't help the swear word, but he held it back as the next strike landed just below the first. The burns pulsated one below the other, but Slade barely had the chance to catch his breath before Oliver was bringing the belt down again and again, the dull slap of the leather concealing just how painful it was.

Just when Slade thought he might lose control of himself completely, the spanking stopped. He lay over Oliver's lap for a few moments as the other man rubbed his back, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

Neither of them said anything. Slade pushed himself up when it was too embarrassing to stay bent over his lover's lap. Instead of pulling his pants and boxers up, he stepped out of them and then looked at Oliver. "You okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"You look rough."

"That... wasn't nearly as easy as I thought it would be."

Slade looked at the bed and considered sitting down on it for a split second. The throb in his backside made it clear that was a bad idea. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Oliver's shoulders as he remained standing. "I dreamed that I killed you."

"I'm sure that's not the first dream you've had about that." Oliver leaned his head against Slade's shoulder, pressing a kiss against his neck.

"The first one I had since you got me out of prison."

Oliver stood up, wrapping his arms around Slade and leaning in close to kiss him. "Next time you call me in the middle of the night, I'm flying straight back. No matter what you say."

Slade responded to the kiss, hard and passionately. He didn't bother saying anything else... but he was feeling. And there was one emotion that stood out stronger than all the rest; one he didn't dare name, even to himself.

**The End**


End file.
